


Scrivere Per Dispetto

by PhillyStrega



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Spoilers for Undiscovered Country, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 13:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhillyStrega/pseuds/PhillyStrega
Summary: Answers to prompts I took over at tumblr. Chapter titles include small summaries of each prompt.





	1. Post-Undiscovered Country Grocery Store Run In

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts over at my tumblr, tonimacattack, and these are the answers to those prompts. More are coming!
> 
> I wrote these mostly to write through my angry feelings at the current showrunners/writing staff. Hence the title, which is Italian for "to write out of spite."

It’s a rainy Saturday and Rafael has a craving for pancakes and nothing even remotely related to a pancake mix ingredient in his apartment. He closes his kitchen cabinets and swears, for about the thirtieth time this year, to cook more at home.

He throws on a jacket, a pair of shoes he doesn’t care about getting wet, grabs an umbrella and makes his way down to the chain grocery store in his neighborhood. He supposes he could’ve gone to the bodega on his block but everyone knows the charm of bodegas is their ability to have cheap prepared food and snacks. If there’s a bag of flour or a box of pancake mix at the bodega Rafael bets it’s covered in a thin layer of dust and costs easily three times what it should.

He quickly gets distracted at the grocery store picking out stuff he doesn’t need but thinks looks nice. He’s being weekend-lazy and his fridge is empty, he figures he’s allowed to take his time, here.

He’s holding up an eggplant that looks good, but he’s not totally sure what he’d do with, when he hears someone clear their throat next to him. Assuming he’s standing in the way and someone just needs to get by, Rafael mutters out an apology and steps back. Then he looks up.

Sonny Carisi is in front of him, hair slightly damp, missing its usual gel finish, strands of it curling against his neck and flopping in front of his wide eyes. He’s all lank in dark jeans and a black henley top. Rafael feels a chill just looking at him. He feels a lot of things.

“Detective,” Rafael says dryly.

“Uh, hey,” Sonny says, offering up an awkward little wave of his hand. He looks like he doesn’t know what to make of Rafael in the middle of this brightly lit store. “Didn’t expect to see you…here.”

“Even former-ADAs need to eat,” Rafael says.

“No, yeah, I know,” Sonny babbles. “I just. I dunno. Grocery shopping seems…too mundane. For you.”

Rafael’s not sure if that’s a compliment or not so he just nods. He watches some water drip down from Sonny’s hair and his throat goes a little dry seeing it. He coughs. “Get caught in the rain?”

“Oh yeah, just a little.” Sonny shakes his head, like he’s a dog, and pushes his hair back out of his eyes. It just flops forward again.

“Do you live around here, now?” Rafael asks as he wonders how either of them will get out of this conversation with their pride intact.

“Yeah, just moved here a month ago,” Sonny says. He looks sheepish and scratches idly at the back of his neck. “I, ah. Forgot. You lived around here.”

Sonny has only been to Rafael’s apartment once. The week before everything that happened…happened. And Rafael left the DA’s office. Rafael didn’t really expect him to remember where Rafael lived. A lot of that night is blurred at the edges thanks to the alcohol they’d both slightly over indulged in at the bar. It hadn’t been enough for either of them to say the night was the direct cause of intoxication. Though Rafael would have to admit the scotch had loosened his tongue, may have helped Rafael move and reach out to Sonny, may have helped Sonny reach back to meet him.

Rafael doesn’t expect Sonny to remember the rushed car ride from the bar to Rafael’s place. But so much of that night is still carved into Rafael’s memory with a weight that will takes years to wash away that he can’t help but also feel a bit stung.

“Yes, same apartment,” Rafael says, a tad pointedly. “Not too far away.”

Sonny clears his throat and his eyes flutter around as if looking for a subject change to take physical form in front of him. “I heard you’re working legal aid, now.”

“Sometimes,” Rafael says, wondering who Sonny ‘heard’ that from. Probably Liv. “I’m also teaching.”

“Fordham?” Sonny asks, smirking.

“Columbia,” Rafael says and he returns the smile in spite of himself. “And I’m working with Bayard, a bit. Just every so often, when he needs help with Project Innocence.”

“Wow, that’s. That’s great,” Sonny says, sounding genuinely pleased for Rafael and impressed. “Bayard Ellis, man. He’s. Something.”

“I’ll ask him to autograph something for you,” Rafael says, then immediately wishes he hadn’t. It comes out more bitter than he’d meant and from the way Sonny’s smile slides off his face, he hears it too. “Sorry, that…” Rafael sighs. “Sorry.”

“No, hey, it’s okay.” Sonny shrugs. “This is. More than a little awkward.”

“Because I’m your former coworker who resigned in disgrace or because we fucked once?” Rafael asks and he watches as Sonny blushes and looks away. Rafael sighs and finally puts down the eggplant he’d been considering. He doesn’t even have it in him to make a joke about that. He looks at Sonny again and wonders if he’ll ever see him again. If this is it, than it’s as good a place as any, he figures. “Are we ever going to talk about it?”

Sonny’s cheeks are still pink but he recovers enough to snark back at Rafael, “Which one you wanna talk about? You resigning in disgrace or how we fucked once?”

Rafael nods as if to say, fair enough. “The second,” he clarifies.

“I don’t know,” Sonny says honestly. “I thought we would. I thought we’d have time.”

“Right,” Rafael says and he lets out a sad, low laugh. They’d both been awkward the day after–days after. They had both maybe needed some space. By the time Rafael had begun to feel ready to talk to Sonny about sleeping together he’d already started down the short path that would expel him from the DA’s office.

“I wanted to wait. After.” Sonny sighs and Rafael’s not sure if Sonny means after they slept together or after Rafael quit. Maybe it doesn’t really matter, in the long run. “And then the longer I waited, the more I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to call.”

“I did,” Rafael says.

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” Sonny says and Rafael can see the lingering anger layered underneath the sadness and the awkwardness on Sonny’s face. “You were just there one day and then gone.”

Rafael admits now that he hard pretty much cut off everyone at SVU once his trial started. Everyone except Liv, who didn’t listen when he told her to stay away, anyway.

“I distanced myself,” Rafael explains to Sonny. “I guess I thought it would make things easier.”

Sonny snorts in disbelief. “Did it?”

“Yes and no,” Rafael concedes.

“Well,” Sonny says, feigning as much cheer as he can muster, and it’s not much. “I should, uh, let you get back too–”

“Pancakes,” Rafael blurts out, apropos of little. “I was. I came here for stuff for. Pancakes.”

“Pancakes,” Sonny repeats, and he’s smiling now, something close to full and real. “Not seeing a whole lot of pancake stuff in your basket, there.”

“What are you the basket police, now?” Rafael rolls his eyes, at Sonny and his own poor retort. “Bisquick was my next stop.”

“Aw, come on,” Sonny whines. He looks a little pained, his hand coming up to clasp at his heart, like he’s suffering some serious slings and arrows. “Real pancake mix is so much better and not that hard to make.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start, there,” Rafael says.

Sonny shrugs and says, “I make great pancakes.”

It sounds like an offer. Rafael swallows and hopes he’s not reading more into that than he should. “You could…if you didn’t have any plans, that is. You could make me pancakes.”

“I could, huh?” Sonny huffs out a laugh. “How generous of me.”

“If you were interested,” Rafael says, making it Sonny’s choice.

Sonny looks genuinely torn, for about a second, and then he reaches out and takes Rafael’s grocery basket from him and looks further inside. “Yeah, okay, but we’re gonna need some more stuff that’s actually pancake-related, here.”

It takes work to appear nonplussed in that moment and Rafael just nods and hopes his hands aren’t shaking as he gestures to the rest of the store. “Lead on, then.”

When Sonny finally makes him pancakes, it’s Sunday morning. Sonny’s in his underwear and a borrowed Harvard Law t-shirt. His hair is a frightful mess–the end result of getting caught in the rain the day before, letting it air dry, and then letting Rafael run his fingers through it all night and all morning. His neck and cheeks are pink, and Rafael isn’t sure where his pleased flush at having cooked breakfast ends and the beard burn Rafael left behind begins.

“Alright,” Sonny says, a vision in rumpled domesticity and seduction that Rafael can’t believe he gets to have. He hands Rafael a fork and positions a large plate of pancakes between them, like he plans for them to share, Lady and the Tramp style. “Try that and tell me it’s not better than Bisquick.”

Rafael is still waking up and his eyes feel dry and puffy. He can’t remember if he cried at one point during last night’s talking-sex-talking-sex marathon and he thinks maybe it’s better than he can’t. And maybe it doesn’t matter, anyway, since Sonny is still here and that’s about all Rafael cares about in this moment.

He cuts himself a neat layered triangle of pancake with his fork and stuffs it into his mouth, doing a neat impression of a chipmunk as Sonny laughs. Rafael chews and swallows and looks at Sonny’s bright blue eyes. 

“It’s better,” he says.


	2. Sonny Unexpectedly Gets Shirtless, Rafael is Agog

Fin keeps looking at Rafael like he’s perplexed as to why he’s in the back of this police surveillance van and it feels inevitable when he finally says, “Not sure why you need to be here, Counselor.”

“I’m not sure, either, Sergeant,” Rafael says dryly. “But when I checked in with the DA after this case’s search warrant snafu–”

“Hand to god, I heard a baby crying,” Rollins says from the driver’s seat of the van.

Rafael elects to act like he didn’t hear that. “Let’s just say when the DA heard about the warrant for the wire he got a little…concerned.” Rafael grunts, uncomfortable, and realizes he’s been sitting on an old bag of Dunkin Donuts debris. “And insistent.”

Fin takes the trash from Rafael and wordlessly chucks it into a larger trash bag. Right now he’s unquestionably Rafael’s favorite member of the NYPD. “I guess you can’t say no to that.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Rafael grumbles.

The sliding door of the van flies open and somehow Sonny folds all his limbs up enough to climb in quickly and slam the door behind him.

“Way to take your time,” Rollins grouses.

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t get away, finally had to invent a tobacco addiction,” Sonny grumbles before falling into a makeshift seat. He tips his chin up in hello at Rafael. “Counselor. Didn’t know we had a ride along scheduled.”

“Ha ha,” Rafael says pointedly.

“Shirt off, let’s go,” Fin says to Carisi. “Time to wire you up.”

“Ah, yeah,” Sonny says absently and quickly sheds his coat and then starts tugging his sweater over his head. “Hey, one of you got a pack of cigarettes? Gonna look weird if I go back without.”

“There’s a bodega half a block back, I suggest you make do,” Rafael says. He’s trying to focus his eyes on anything in the back of the van that isn’t Sonny and his quickly expanding amount of bare, visible, skin.

Rollins lunges her arm back, a carton of cigarettes in her hand. “If my doctors asks, you didn’t get this from me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Sonny says. He tucks the carton of cigarettes into his back pocket and pulls off his t shirt. It’s not exactly warm in the van, they are trying to fly under the radar after all. Sonny’s pale skin pinks up a bit in the chill and Rafael’s brain is a mess of: Sonny’s chest hair, Sonny’s pink nipples, Sonny’s pale skin–and then he notices Sonny has tattoos and Rafael honestly thinks he may have a stroke.

There’s a black and grey silhouette of praying hands holding the rosary on his ribs, the tattoo of choice for Catholic boys the world over. Rafael thinks it’s a bit of a pathetic cliche–that Sonny has that tattoo and that Rafael thinks it’s hot. It’s a fairly self explanatory tattoo and the other two aren’t, necessarily. Script along his collar bone is clearly Italian, but that’s all Rafael can tell from looking at it. The yellow flowers blooming up his bicep and curling along his shoulder look vaguely familiar but Rafael can’t place them.

And then–he can. He forgets himself and that he was meant to be playing it cool and he lurches out and grabs at Sonny’s elbow to bring the flowers closer.

“Are those zucchini blossoms?” He asks, laughing.

Sonny looks stunned for a moment and has to right himself from where Rafael has yanked him off balance. But then he’s grinning, dimples and all, and nodding. “Yeah, well spotted.”

“You thought, what, you weren’t Italian enough?”

Sonny laughs and Fin, who is taping the wire to Sonny’s chest, looks faintly annoyed. “Kinda. I got it after my nonna died. Flowers are popular for memorial tattoos but my nonna was not a floral sorta lady. She always grew zucchini, though.”

“Huh.” It’s kind of clever. And the yellow and orange of the blossoms pop against Sonny’s pale skin in a way Rafael wasn’t expecting. Sonny is looking at him, eyes half lidded, a coy sort of smile on his face. Rafael thinks about reigning himself back in but there’s just. So much of Sonny’s chest. In front of him. And one more tattoo to ask about. Rafael lets his hand drift up from Sonny’s elbow to thumb at the top of Sonny’s collar bone. “And this?”

Sonny huffs out a shaky laugh, and whether he’s shivering from the cold or Rafael touching him or some combination of both, Rafael doesn’t know.

The Italian trips off of Sonny’s tongue easily. “Segui il tuo corso et lascia dir les genti,” he says. “Ah, it means, basically, let people talk, keep walkin’ your road.” Sonny shrugs and Fin makes an annoyed noise out loud now and has to throw away a balled up bit of wasted tape. “It’s from Dante.”

“As fascinating as this lesson in literature and flirtation has been,” Rollins drawls, arching an eyebrow at the two of them. “We kinda need to get you back in there, Carisi.”

“You can tape him,” Fin says, tossing the roll of tape at Rafael, who fumbles to catch it. “I quit.”

Rafael blinks absently at Sonny, who’s smirking at him, now. “Hey, Counselor,” Sonny says, and his tone is unquestionably flirtatious, now. “What are you doing after this?”

Rafael’s mouth quirks up into a smile. “You tell me, Detective. I don’t suppose you’ll need help taking the tape off again.”

Rollins groans in protest from the front of the van and Sonny laughs, loud and bright.


	3. Domestic! Sonny and Rafael Fight Over the Thermostat

They both knew that after they moved in together, there’d be a period of…adjustment. As much as they tended to live out of each other’s pockets, there’s still a big difference between that and, well, actually cohabitating.

“We’ll have some stupid fights,” Sonny says, not worried. “It’ll be fine. I’ll still love you.”

“I’m not worried about you not loving me, I’m worried about you not liking me,” Rafael says and promptly spills coffee on his shirt. Not something he usually does.

“You’re worrying too much,” Sonny says as he dutifully hands Rafael a kitchen towel. “It’ll be fine.”

That, strangely enough, does not make Rafael feel better. In fact it sort of makes him want to spike his coffee mug at Sonny. For the betterment of his morning caffeine fix and his relationship, Rafael opts instead to stomp out of the kitchen and angst alone in what is, for now at least, still only his bedroom.

The move is awful, because moves are always awful. Rafael had wanted to hire someone and Sonny had argued that was a needless expense and instead rounds up a bunch of his buddies from back home. Rafael is at first glad for the help and then very tempted to use the money he would’ve spent on movers on noise canceling headphones to block out Sonny and his very loud buddies.

After the move, and after Sonny pays his friends in pizza and beer and Rafeal makes a note to later tell Sonny he is not twenty anymore and that is not okay, things fall pretty quickly into a comfortable pattern. Rafael finds the whole thing suspiciously easy, the comfortable rhythm of living with Sonny, and he takes to glaring at random items like they’re lying in wait to betray him and his new living situation and relationship.

When the inevitable first post-move fight comes, it isn’t over anything Rafael expected. In fact, Rafael takes a whole day and a half to even notice the problem. Every time he sets the thermostat to a lower temperature, someone comes along later and resets it higher. And unless he’s gained a handy apartment ghost or the cat has grown opposable thumbs, Sonny is the culprit.

“Stop setting this at 72,” Rafael says, stabbing his finger at the thermostat to lower it.

“72 is room temperature,” Sonny says. “It’s literally what temperature the room is supposed to be.”

“That is. Not at all true, what.”

“It’s comfortable,” Sonny argues.

“It’s also expensive,” Rafael says, and he hates that he sounds like his mother, now. Sonny looks a little startled and then smirks, causing Rafael to bark out, “What?”

“Nothing, I just never expected you to complain about cost,” Sonny says.

“You know I don’t come from money, right?” Rafael rolls his eyes and swallows back a snide retort about Sonny’s middle class suburban upbringing. 

“Right, I know, I do, but you spent, like, a hundred dollars on socks last week–”

“I can spend a hundred dollars on socks because I don’t jack up the heat in the apartment,” Rafael says. He just barely stops himself from calling it ‘his’ apartment because that would immediately dial this fight up to eleven, which is not what he wants. He just wants Sonny to stop fiddling with the thermostat.

Sonny shrugs. “I thought one of the perks of cohabitation was splitting utility bills.”

Rafael snorts and steps away from the thermostat. “That may be, but there’s no reason for the thermostat to be above 62, it’s not even December yet.”

“62? Raf, come on.” Sonny folds his arms across his chest, dangerously bordering on down-right pouting. “That’s freezing!”

“If you’re cold put on a sweatshirt,” Rafael says. 

 

“I’m wearing a sweatshirt.”

“Put on a second sweatshirt.”

Sonny laughs, then quickly cuts himself off when he realizes Rafael isn’t kidding. “Oh my god, you’re serious.”

“Warm socks are also helpful,” Rafael says.

“I’d borrow a pair you just bought but they’re all thin brightly colored dress socks,” Sonny snarks.

“You like my socks,” Rafael says, because it’s true, not because it holds much weight as a rebuttal.

“I can’t believe you’re being this stubborn about the thermostat,” Sonny grumbles and he crosses over to the hall closet to dig around for something that turns out to be a fleece blanket.

“It’s money I’d rather we have for dinner out or…” Rafael searches his mind for something, anything, that isn’t socks and manages, “Shoes.”

Sonny lets out a surprised laugh. “Shoes?”

Rafael flails his arms into the air like, I don’t know. It’s his turn to fold his arms over his chest and look stubbornly at Sonny. Sonny just stands there, hands clasping the fleece blanket, staring at Rafael for a moment before he drops the blanket to the couch and walks closer to Rafael.

“Is this about the thermostat?”

Rafael snorts and runs a frustrated hand over his face. “Did you miss the argument we just had, or–?”

“Yeah, no, I heard that,” Sonny says in a tone like he still can’t quite believe they’re bickering over this. “You’re just. You’re kinda tweaking out.”

“Tweaking. Out?”

Sonny gives him a flat look. “When you’re mad you get quiet and you get firm and, frankly…down right vicious. That’s not what this is. You’re not actually mad about the thermostat. You’re…jittery. Nervous, maybe?”

Rafael in that moment really regrets his choice to date a detective. “Are we in an interrogation room, now?”

Sonny rolls his eyes and doesn’t take the bait. “I’m just observing. And hoping you’ll tell me what’s eating at you. Cause I don’t think it’s the thermostat.”

Sonny sounds pretty confident, is the thing, and it makes Rafael want to say the problem is, without question, the thermostat. It is absolutely, one hundred percent…not the thermostat.

“I’ve never done this before,” Rafael admits begrudgingly.

Sonny’s eyebrows lift. “Never…taken a stand over the thermostat?”

Rafael glares at him and looks and sounds very much like he’s getting a tooth pulled. “Never lived with someone.”

“You had roommates in college,” Sonny says. “And law school, you told me–”

“I never lived with someone I care about,” Rafael says loudly and he shrugs his arms out along with his admission as if to say, happy now?

Sonny’s expression softens and he takes a step into Rafael’s space. “Raf,” he says, a smile slowly blooming across his face. “Are you nervous?”

Rafael would rather cut off his own foot than admit it, but that is unfortunately not how relationships work. “Maybe.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried!” Rafael jabs an accusatory finger into Sonny’s chest. “Every time I mentioned I was worried you were…Happy McSunshine. About it.”

“Okay,” Sonny replies. “First, that nickname is absolutely not allowed to catch on.” Rafael is definitely going to put it on a t-shirt for him for his birthday. “Second…I’m sorry.”

Rafael blinks. “What?”

“I should’ve listened to you. Instead of insisting everything would be fine,” Sonny says, twisting his face up into an expression that’s a mix of embarrassed and apologetic. “I’m sorry about that. I thought you were just being contrary, I didn’t know you were actually twisted up about this.”

“I could’ve been clearer,” Rafael says charitably. “Instead of. Dramatic.”

“You? Dramatic?” Sonny feigns shock and Rafael smacks him, lightly, on the arm. Sonny seems to take that as permission to wrap his arms around Rafael’s waist and completely invade his space. Rafael only puts on the smallest show of resisting before he leans into Sonny. Sonny presses quick kisses to Rafael’s cheek, his temple. “I’m sorry I touched your thermostat. I’ll leave it alone.”

Rafael sighs, like he’s being magnanimous and says, “It’s our thermostat. And I guess we could set it at 65.”

Sonny laughs, clearly not swooning over with gratitude for an extra three degrees. “I could always warm myself up the old fashioned way.” He promptly slides his hands down the back of Rafael’s pants.

“As subtle as a rock to the head,” Rafael drones.

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle,” Sonny says and he is definitely pouting now. “I was trying to get you to take off your pants.”

Rafael tilts his head to the side and thinks, fair enough.


	4. Sonny Convincing Rafael Not to Dye His Hair

They’re lounging in the living room in full body sprawls, the kind that only comes after a particularly long and exhausting work week. Sonny’s sitting up, mostly, his body totally relaxed into the plush couch as he feigns watching whatever’s on tv. Rafael looks like he’s in danger of falling asleep any moment, laid out across the couch, using Sonny’s thigh as a pillow and poking half-heartedly at the New York Times crossword puzzle open on his ipad.

“We should sleep in tomorrow. Stay in,” Sonny suggests.

“You think?” Rafael replies in a way that clearly communicates, convince me. 

“I chased that scumbag Holland all over the five boroughs.” Literally. Sonny somehow found himself involved in a foot chase in both Queens and Brooklyn and he thinks the final short, but nevertheless obnoxious, chase in Manhattan counts as two, possibly, considering Holland made him full-body tackle him before surrendering. “You were buried in pre-trial motions.”

“Let’s not forget the evidence Buchanan shared with me for the Lindsay trial that was buried somewhere in 80 boxes of unrelated documents,” Rafael adds. 

Sonny snorts out a little laugh. “Your office looked like a FedEx Kinkos.”

“Until you rearranged the boxes to make a small wall,” Rafael says dryly. 

“I was waiting for you to get off that conference call and was bored,” Sonny says in his own defense. 

“Sure,” Rafael says, clearly not buying any of that. If he’d left Sonny to it, he probably would’ve constructed a small fort out of the boxes. 

“I’m just saying, we’ve earned a lazy weekend,” Sonny insists. 

Rafael doesn’t necessarily disagree. “Sleeping in, we can do. Staying in, we can’t. Or I can’t. I have a hair appointment.”

Sonny makes a confused noise and pets at Rafael’s head. “You just got a haircut.” Sonny distinctly remembers because Rafael complained about not being able to shower right after and having itchy bits of hair in his shirt the whole time they were out to dinner. 

“I’m not getting it cut, I’m getting it colored,” Rafael says. 

Sonny frowns and lets his fingers drag through Rafael’s hair again. Sonny can see the glimpses of gray at Rafael’s temples, in the upward swoop of hair closest to his forehead. Without realizing he’s doing it, really, Sonny presses his fingers into Rafael’s hair, harder, thumbing over the gray, fixating on it. 

“What. Are you doing?” Rafael asks. 

“Uh.”

Rafael tips his head back, forcing Sonny’s hands down and away. “Were you fondling my grey hair?”

Sonny’s eyes dart around the room for a while before he finally just gives in and admits, “yes. Possibly. Maybe?”

“Huh,” Rafael says. 

“I just. I didn’t know you got it colored.”

“Good, it’s supposed to be subtle.” 

Sonny can’t help it, his hands drift into Rafael’s hair again. “I kinda like the grey?”

“It makes me look old,” Rafael says dismissively. “And if you follow that up with any denial that I am aging, or use the word ‘distinguished’ in anyway–”

Sonny laughs. “Nah. I just. Uh. I dunno. I like it. It looks good on you.” 

Rafael squints at him. “You’re not just saying that.”

“No.”

“Not just feeding my ego–”

Sonny rolls his eyes. “Like your ego needs anymore feeding, come on.” 

Rafael presses his lips together, considering things. “Okay.”

“Okay? Okay what.”

“Okay, I’ll cancel my hair appointment,” Rafael says, turning his attention back to the ipad and the crossword. 

Sonny smirks, feeling a bit smug. “That’s all it takes? I say I like the grey and now you’re keeping it.”

“Honestly, I’ve never loved the process,” Rafael concedes, still staring at his ipad. “And I do have a somewhat vested interest in what you like.”

Sonny bends down over Rafael, his arm curling across Rafael’s chest. “I also like when you watch The Bachelor with me.”

“There is a line,” Rafael says emphatically and whatever he’s about to say next gets lost in the press of Sonny’s smiling mouth to his.


End file.
